Young Love Murder
by Dizzy Takeout
Summary: Kurt and Puck have broken up and they are lost without each other. Based off of Ke ha's "The Harold Song".


**AN: Hi guys! So, this is just a little story based off of Ke$ha's "The Harold Song". I can't help it, I love her. It's a secret obsession. Its my first AU/future fic. Lyrics in italics. This will be a three chapter thing: one from kurt's view, one from puck's then from both. Read, enjoy and review:)**

**Recipe: A cup of angst, a slice of misunderstanding, a teaspoon of crying. Mix with Ke$ha and you get a Kurt/Puck break up fic. **

"Kurt Hummel Couture." That's what the ad read.

Kurt stared at the billboard, an unreadable expression on his face. His whole life's work was finally paying off. He was famous. He was a star. He was alone.

"Kurt, we have to get going." His agent tapped him on the shoulder and Kurt was brought out his thoughts. He took one last look at the sign before hopping back into the car.

He thought it would help, seeing the fruit of his labor. Seeing everything he was working toward materialize in front of his eyes. It didn't, really. The pain didn't go away; it just numbed for a moment.

But, after the elation of his first Couture ad wore off, the sadness came back full throttle and all Kurt could do was feel it. He was defenseless against it, and it killed him.

He looked out the window, the streets of the city moving quickly in front of him. He watched, but didn't really see.

Kurt was thinking of Noah. He always was thinking of Noah and he didn't know how to stop it.

He saw Noah's face. He saw every distinct feature, every mark, every unnatural ridge, every tint of copper in his skin.

He saw Noah's eyes. He saw every color, the blacks, the golds, the greens, the browns. He saw every emotion that was passed through them.

He saw Noah's smile. He saw the white teeth and the small dimples on his cheeks. He saw the smirk, the grin, the laugh.

He saw it all. And when he saw it, he felt it. He could feel Noah's lips on his own. He could feel the curve of them against his neck, the soft skin pressing against his pulse. He could feel the worn in sheets on his back as Noah laid him down. He could feel the five o'clock shadow on his cheek as Noah whispered in his ear. It was so real, so concrete in his mind.

But, as close as it was, it was so far gone.

_I miss your soft lips. I miss your white sheets.  
I miss the scratch of your un-shaved face on my cheek_.

The car rumbled over potholes as Kurt continued to stare out the window. The buildings, tall and omniscient, looked down at Kurt, seeming to read his thoughts with their judgmental stare. They all seemed to say the same thing.

"It was your fault."

Kurt pulled his eyes from the window and look at his folded hands, leaning his head against the back head rest. He couldn't take this much longer.

He was young. He wasn't thinking. He thought it was the right thing to do.

He didn't want to. He wanted Noah to come with him to New York. They could have been so happy together, so perfect. He didn't know that then. All he knew was that Noah couldn't play 'secret boyfriend' for much longer. It was too much for them, the stress of undercover meetings and snowballing lies was overwhelming them. So, he let him go.

Kurt left Noah before going to New York. He said goodbye, he kissed him and then he was gone.

It was his biggest regret.

_And this is so hard 'cause I didn't see  
that you were the love of my life and it kills me._

Horns honked and people swore. Kurt watched them from the safety of the passenger seat. The one in the red had the same skin color as Noah. The one with the alligator purse had the same hair color. The one with the muscle tee had the same body build. Everywhere he looked, he saw the same face. The same face that haunted him. The face he couldn't forget.

Everyone was Noah.

No one was Noah.

Kurt closed his eyes and let the smooth rhythms of the ride lull him to sleep. Images passed through his brain, like a slideshow, each passing quicker than the next, until it became a movie, flickering memories leaving another mark on his subconscious. Time flew faster when he was with Noah, whether it was real, or in his mind.

"Kurt. Kurt. We're here. Wake up." Kurt felt the prodding fingers of his agent in his arm and he wrestled with gravity to open his eyelids.

"…I wasn't sleeping." Kurt grumbled and his agent just rolled his eyes.

"So, you just mumble names all the time? That must be a nuisance."

Kurt covered his mouth with his palm, as if the tumbling names could be held in. "Sorry." He said just loudly enough to hear. The other man waved it off and opened the car door. Kurt stepped out and placed his sunglasses over his eyes.

_I see your face in strangers on the street.  
I still say your name when I'm talking in my sleep_

"Kurt! Over here! Smile this way!"

"Kurt! Tell us about your spring collection!"

"Kurt! Is there a man in the picture for you?"

Kurt smiled and waved, posing a few times and signing a few magazines. He made a few jokes with a fan and exchanged small talk with a reporter. Quick and easy. He was in his apartment building in fifteen minutes, closing the door behind him. He rubbed his sore cheeks and sighed.

He liked having fans. He did. Just not now. Not when the laughs are forced and the good humor is fake. He just wanted to sleep. And that is not what they wanted to hear.

Noah would have loved the attention. He would smile and laugh, making faces at the cameras and giving hugs to the fans. He would jokingly tease Kurt about his impatience. Kiss him on the cheek. Put his muscular arms around him. It would have been adorable. They would have been adorable.

Kurt pressed the elevator button for his floor. He watched as each one lit up as the floors rose. Three more floors, two more floors, one more floor. He was home. Or, what he called home.

He fumbled with the keys, dropping them to the floor, and then flicking through the ring to find the right one. Once he was finally in, he dropped everything and turned off the lights, all except for the small lantern in the corner. Kurt couldn't turn that one off. It would be too dark, and Kurt just couldn't be bothered with the thoughts that come with the dark. He was depressed enough already.

_And in the limelight, I play it all fine.  
But I can't handle it when I turn off my night light. _

Kurt laid down and wrapped the duvet around his thin body. Why was he so afraid of the dark? What could it do to him? Kurt pulled the blankets off and stood up. He walked over to the light, raking it over with his eyes before pulling it out of the outlet. He peered out his window, and after seeing that no one was there, he threw it out. He waited for the crack of the glass and once it came, he trudged back to the bed.

Then he remembered why he needed the light.

The light helped Noah stay away. The light protected him from Noah. And now, Noah was there, in his brain. When he closed his eyes, he saw his face. When he turned over in his sheets, he felt Noah's warmth.

But, in the dark, the tears were invisible on the decorated pillowcase.

_But I can't handle it when I turn off my night light_

**AN: Ok first part done. Lemme know Whatcha think:)**


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